


glitter in the air

by harinezumi_kun



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: M/M, Romance, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-30
Updated: 2010-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:38:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harinezumi_kun/pseuds/harinezumi_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>have you ever felt this way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	glitter in the air

**Author's Note:**

> from pink's [glitter in the air](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n_1apBILe34). this is what i originally wanted to write for [the melody lingers on](http://nicefinalbeam.livejournal.com/450371.html). inspiration finally struck me a couple days ago, and this is basically what i've been doing ever since ;p

_Have you ever—_

 

“Never,” Nino confides, and it’s partly true: he’s never kissed a _girl_ , anyway.

But Ohno doesn’t laugh or make fun of him, he just says “oh”, and looks genuinely surprised. There’s a pause, then, a little awkward maybe, because despite how immediately easy they are around each other, they only met a few weeks ago. Then Ohno turns to Nino and makes his heart stop.

“We could practice,” he says, expression completely open and guileless, and Nino thinks _he can’t mean what it sounds like he means_. “I heard that’s what girls do,” Ohno continues with a shrug.

Nino chuckles nervously. “Right now?”

“Sure,” Ohno says, and that’s when Nino sees the little spark of eagerness in his eyes.

“Okay.” Nino nods, plays it cool. He’s supposed to be the one with no experience, so he just scoots a little closer and waits for Ohno to make the first move.

“Close your eyes,” Ohno murmurs after a moment, and Nino does, immediately. “It’s a little weird if you’re staring at me.”

Nino is still grinning when Ohno’s lips find his, and he quickly forgets about pretending he’s never been kissed. In his enthusiasm, he gives himself away.

“You’re pretty good at this for a beginner,” Ohno says breathlessly a few minutes later, smirking against Nino’s mouth.

“Guess you’re just a really good teacher,” Nino returns, angling his head for another kiss.

 

_—ever fed a lover with just your hands?_

 

Cooking has never been Ohno’s forte. Even making cake out of a box proves to be something of challenge, much to Ohno’s chagrin. Luckily, Nino seems perfectly happy to allow Ohno the use of his kitchen, despite the mess.

There is, quite literally, cake everywhere. Or rather, cake ingredients. There’s flour all over the counter and floor and in Ohno’s hair, the eggshells are at least in the general vicinity of the trashcan, and there is a good amount of batter splattered over everything, including Ohno’s face.

For some reason, when Nino leans in to lick a bit of it off, Ohno doesn’t mind. That’s Nino, that’s what he does, he’s impulsive and physical and a little weird, which is part of the reason why they get along so well, Ohno thinks. But then, when Ohno dips his finger into the bowl to take some batter for himself, Nino grabs Ohno’s wrist with a wicked little grin and pops the older man’s finger into his own mouth.

And this, Ohno realizes dizzily, is very different. Maybe because he can see Nino’s face with this, looking up at him through his mess of fringe, and he can feel Nino’s tongue sliding along his finger, careful and thorough. When he’s done, Nino pulls away with a last little suck, and watches Ohno expectantly.

But Ohno’s head is completely empty. All he can manage is a slack-jawed stare.

After a moment, Nino turns away with a short sigh. “Why do you need to make a cake anyway, Oh-chan?”

Ohno blinks. His neurons still haven’t reconnected, and he has no idea what Nino is talking about. Cake? What the hell is cake? The only concept Ohno is currently aware of is _Nino’s mouth_. But Nino isn’t looking at him, and answers his own question.

“Oh, that’s right, it’s your mom’s birthday tomorrow.” He turns back to Ohno. “Right?”

“Uh,” Ohno manages, staring at his finger now.

Nino sighs again. “Geez, here, have the spoon if you want the batter that badly.”

 

_—Closed your eyes and trusted, just trusted?_

 

“Close your eyes,” Ohno says, sounding vaguely annoyed.

But Nino won’t, and he grins, pushing.

“Why? It’s just rehearsal. And we’re going to have sunglasses on for the actual skit, anyway.” Nino doesn’t really get why Ohno’s acting so uptight about all this—it’s not like they’ve never kissed before—but his head spins with the what-ifs.

“Just…close them, would you?” Ohno says again, staring at a point over Nino’s shoulder. “It’s weird.”

“I dunno,” Nino hums— _push, push, push_. “What if you run away when I’m not looking?”

Ohno meets his eyes, then, and suddenly Nino loses a bit of his confidant veneer. Because he knows that Ohno can tell when there’s more meaning to his words than he’ll even really admit to himself.

“You’ll have to trust me,” Ohno says quietly.

Nino purses his lips, feels his heart beating a little harder. 

After a moment, he lets out a slow breath through his nose, and closes his eyes.

 

_—Have you ever thrown a fistful of glitter in the air?_

 

Nothing seems different from usual. They’re backstage before a show, all of them, getting ready to go on, chatting and messing around, surrounded by flurries of staff, juniors, technicians. Ohno is standing next to Nino—close, always closer than he means to—and then he says something, something so unremarkable that he doesn’t even remember what it was later, to make Nino laugh.

Somewhere in the middle of that laugh, it changes—they change, somehow. Ohno can see it in Nino’s eyes. One moment they are bright, full of a softness that is so rare, and then. 

Then, as his giggles fade away, his eyes darken, pupils dilating, and he’s looking at Ohno like he’s never really seen him before. He almost looks scared.

Ohno tilts his head a little, questioning. “Nino? What…?”

Nino shakes himself, breaking his stare, and scrubs a hand over his face. “Shit,” he says, very softly.

 

_—Have you ever looked fear in the face and said, "I just don't care"?_

 

“What?” Ohno asks again, raising one hand towards Nino uncertainly.

Nino doesn’t look up, doesn’t want to, can’t. This is not a good time for this to happen. This is not _supposed_ to happen. He denies it, then. He pushes it away. Later. Maybe never.

But then Ohno’s hand is on his arm, a feather-light touch but Nino can feel the warmth of it all the way to his toes. When he finally raises his eyes, the concern on Ohno’s face is so intense it’s almost comical.

“It’s fine, it’s nothing,” he says quickly. “I just…it’s not important.” And Ohno, bless him, seems to believe it.

A few minutes later they are on stage, exploding in light and sound and thousands of people are cheering for them. Nino doesn’t have time to think anymore, and number after number rushes by until he finds they have hurtled into the Ohmiya SK skit, and now here they are, face to face and grinning at each other like idiots.

Nino knows he should be careful with this, with Ohno and what’s happening—happened—between them. Before, it seemed sudden and frightening, but with Ohno’s smiling face in his hands, Nino knows it’s been a long time coming. Maybe he should be more worried, maybe he will be more worried when he thinks it over later, but right now—

Right now, he is in love, and he cannot bring himself to care about the consequences.

He kisses Ohno, and it is the tiniest, silliest little meeting of lips, but the audience immediately erupts into screams and clapping and cheering.

As he turns away, Nino is glad for it, because he thinks that’s the sound his heart would be making right now, if it could.

_It's only half past the point of no return  
The tip of the iceberg, the sun before the burn  
The thunder before the lightning, the breath before the phrase  
Have you ever felt this way?_   


Ohno shakes his head a little, uncomprehending.

“America?” he repeats.

“Yeah,” Nino says, carefully neutral.

“Well, but, that’s amazing!” Aiba says, clapping hands on Nino’s shoulders. “Hollywood!”

Jun and Sho start adding their congratulations and praise, and Ohno knows he should be, too, but he just can’t wrap his head around it. Nino, gone, for three whole months. Ohno hasn’t gone more than three days without seeing Nino since the debut.

“It’s not a big deal,” Nino says, loud, talking over the others. He waves a dismissive hand. “I’m just doing it for the money.”

“Yeah, right,” Jun scoffs. “We all know about that America fund you had going before Hawaii happened.”

“Seriously,” Nino says, and he _sounds_ serious, looking around at all of them like he wants to be sure they understand. “I’m coming back. It’s just a job. I’m coming back to Arashi.”

Sho is the first to answer. He’s smiling. “We know. We’ll be waiting for you.” 

“Yeah, we’ll work hard while you’re gone!” Aiba adds, and then he’s off on a wild scheme for arranging Nino stand-ins—cardboard, stuffed, inflatable, so many options, really—and starts polling Sho and Jun for ideas.

Ohno can feel Nino’s eyes on him, and turns to meet the other man’s gaze.

“I’m coming back,” Nino says again, soft and apologetic.

Finally, Ohno manages a smile. “I know. It’s okay—you’ll be great.” He takes Nino’s hand, a familiar and comfortable gesture. “And we’ll be fine.”

Nino watches him a moment longer, before dropping his head to Ohno’s shoulder.

“Will you miss me?”

“Of course,” Ohno answers immediately, and feels Nino’s fingers tighten around his own. Nino takes a breath, then, like he might say something more.

“Paper mache!” Aiba cries triumphantly. “Leader, I bet you could make an awesome paper mache Nino! And then, to celebrate when Nino gets back we can fill it with candy and turn it into a piñata!”

“Sure,” Ohno says, grinning.

Nino lets out his little breath, and just smiles instead.

 

_—Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone?_

 

In California, Nino never changes his watch over to American time. That way, whenever he wants, he can know exactly what time it is in Tokyo without having to do math or count backwards. He can just look down at his wrist and think, _Ah, they’re probably asleep now_ , or, _They’re filming for MagoMago right now_ , or, _They’re doing that photoshoot now_.

Or, _Maybe Oh-chan will call me soon_.

Not that Ohno often does, and not that Nino can blame him—there is the time difference, after all, and Arashi is still busy even with one member gone. And it’s not that Ohno calls him less than any of the other members. None of them have lots of free time to be making long distance calls at odd hours.

Still. Sometimes, Nino lies awake in his hotel room, pretending to play video games or read or do anything but pick up his phone _again_ to make sure he didn’t miss a call somehow. Sometimes, he stuffs it under his pillow because he’s sick of looking at it.

But he always takes it out again, just in case.

 

_—Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone._

 

“We miss you,” Ohno says when he means _I miss you_.

“Miss you, too,” Nino answers, and it could mean anything. Ohno wants it to mean _him_.

“Come back soon,” Ohno says, and that’s how he ends all their phone calls, like maybe that will make the time actually go by faster.

“Soon as I can,” Nino replies. Ohno can hear him smiling, even through thousands of miles of static.

 

_—Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?_

 

Logically, Nino knows why the rest of Arashi can’t meet him at the airport. They’re busy, and on top of that it would just be a media circus, and as much as Nino wants to see them, he would rather it were not in front of flashing cameras. He schools himself to patience.

The company gives him a few days off, for jetlag and general recuperation, and in his replies to welcome-back text messages he pretends that his plans involve nothing more than staying holed up in his apartment. Instead, he goes into the city first thing in the morning.

He goes to Jun’s drama location shoot first, since he knows the brief downtime before filming begins will be his only chance to see Jun all day. Nino’s cunning is rewarded when Jun’s face lights up at the sight of him, and Jun actually _runs_ from the other side of the lot to throw himself at Nino.

“I was expecting this from Aiba-chan,” Nino coughs out, “not you.”

“No one’s filming me,” Jun returns, squeezing him harder out of spite. “I can be as uncool as I want.”

“Always liked you better that way anyhow,” Nino says when Jun finally lets him go.

Sho and Aiba are next, Nino finds them in the same dressing room at the Jimusho, and happily suffers another round of manhandling and crushing hugs. Sho wants to know if Nino’s English got any better, and Aiba wants to know where their souvenirs are, and Nino makes small talk with them for as long as he can before his patience abandons him.

“Where’s Leader?” he asks, as casually as possible.

Sho and Aiba exchange a grin, which Nino ignores, and point him in the direction of a conference room a couple floors up, where they left Ohno filling out a magazine questionnaire. Nino tries not to run.

Once he gets there, Nino finds the door to the room open and peeks inside. His heart does an embarrassing little double-thump just seeing the back of Ohno’s head and shoulders, hunched over the table facing away from the door. Nino steps quietly into the room, pushing the door not quite shut behind him, then sneaks up to Ohno on silent footsteps.

Fully aware of the cheesiness of the action, Nino slides his hands over Ohno’s eyes from behind and says, “Guess who?”

Ohno freezes, and for a moment, it seems that he’s even stopped breathing. Slowly, so slowly, he straightens up, puts down his pen. He reaches up, but doesn’t try to remove Nino’s hands at first, just touches them, delicately, like he’s making sure. Eventually his fingers close softly around Nino’s wrists and pull Nino’s hands away, but he still doesn’t turn. He just holds Nino’s hands in front of him, looking at them, and Nino desperately wants to see the look on Ohno’s face.

Finally, Ohno swivels in his chair, ducking under one of Nino’s arms so he can turn fully, and Nino’s breath hitches just a little. Ohno’s got that look on his face, that intense, focused look he gets when he’s painting, or when he’s dancing.

“Nino,” he says, barely audible.

Nino manages a crooked smile. “You’re supposed to guess before you look,” he says, but Ohno makes a face like he has no idea what Nino is talking about, so Nino just says, “I’m back.”

Ohno still has Nino by the wrists, but he lets go as he stands and wraps his arms around Nino’s back, hooking his chin over Nino’s shoulder.

“Welcome home,” Ohno murmurs.

And Nino doesn’t reply right away, because this is so overwhelming in an entirely different way than the rib-cracking hugs he received from the other members. The way Ohno holds him is so soft, so gentle, gathering Nino into him and just breathing him in. With a little shudder, Nino’s arms come up to wind around Ohno’s shoulders, and he has to bury his face in Ohno’s neck because suddenly, inexplicably—

“Nino, are you crying?”

 

_—Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?_

 

It takes two weeks after his return for Nino to take Ohno home with him. And Ohno is impressed with Nino’s endurance.

Because the Ohno Nino found waiting for him is a new and different creature than the one he left three months ago. This is an Ohno who doesn’t shrug off Nino’s roving hands, but happily tolerates them. This is an Ohno who _reacts_ , enthusiastically at times, and Ohno’s starting to wonder how much more enthusiastic he’ll have to get before Nino takes the hint.

“Why don’t you just stay at my place?” Nino says, on the premise that it’s closer to Ohno’s morning photoshoot location than Ohno’s own house, though they are both aware that it’s only about a five minute difference in commute time.

“Sure,” Ohno agrees, smiling.

The ride back to Nino’s apartment is thick with anticipatory silence and the sound of rain falling loud on the windshield. Ohno dares himself until he reaches out to rest a hand on Nino’s thigh as he drives. Ohno catches the little flicker of Nino’s eyes, hears the way Nino is breathing heavily through his nose.

Once they’re through the front door, Nino pauses, with all the lights still off and his back to Ohno. After a moment, Ohno steps closer, sliding his hands around Nino’s waist and resting his lips on the nape of Nino’s neck, just waiting.

“Oh-chan,” Nino says into the darkness.

“Hmm?”

“You know I didn’t bring you here just to sleep over, right?”

“I know,” Ohno says, placing a kiss on the side of Nino’s neck. He feels the younger man shiver. Ohno knows that these are the very last of Nino’s walls coming down, and he has to be careful.

“If we do this,” Nino continues, “everything changes.”

“Not everything,” Ohno reassures him, pressing his cheek against Nino’s shoulder. “Not me. Not you.”

Nino turns his head a little, and his eyes catch a glimmer of watery light from the rain-streaked window across the room. Ohno continues.

“Because we’ve loved each other for a long time. Right?”

Nino nods. “Maybe…always.”

Ohno just smiles, understands. He pulls away just enough so he can turn Nino around, slowly, to face him.

“It’s still us. It’s just us. That’s all.”

Nino nods again, exhales slowly. “Okay.”

And Ohno knows this is permission. This is surrender.

He takes Nino’s hands in his and finally, really, for the first time since they were teenagers, kisses him.

_It's only half past the point of oblivion  
The hourglass on the table, the walk before the run  
The breath before the kiss, and the fear before the flames  
Have you ever felt this way?_   


_Never_ , Nino thinks, and he’s still a little terrified of it, _never like this_. 

His whole body is shaking with it, trembling and jerking with how good it feels, and he’s so ready it aches.

“ _Ah_ ,” he says, on the tiniest breaking breath when Ohno stops, and he’s gulping in air because, _god, oh god_ , they can never be closer than this.

And, “ _Ahhh_ ,” Ohno answers on a long, slow, shaking sigh. The look on Ohno’s face is unfocused, almost lost, and the way he says “Nino” is so uncertain and searching.

“Here,” Nino says, reaching up to bring their faces close. “Right here.”

Ohno lets out something that sounds like a whimper, hips rolling shallowly, making Nino’s breath stutter and almost stop.

“This,” Ohno pants out, “this is—it’s never been like— _ahh_ …”

“Never like this,” Nino agrees, rocking into Ohno’s touch. His words tremble and shatter between them.

“Never like this.”

 

_—There you are, sitting in the garden, clutching my coffee,  
Calling me sugar.  
You called me sugar—_

 

Ohno wakes up alone in bed, and for a moment, he panics.

Gone, Nino is gone again already, he ran, changed his mind—but then Ohno sits up and looks around the room in the early, early morning light. There are Nino’s clothes, still on the floor, and there’s something about the air, the weight of it and the sound. The apartment doesn’t feel empty.

Suddenly, Ohno smells coffee.

He rises, grabbing his boxers as he goes and hopping into them in the hallway. The coffee smell gets stronger when he comes up alongside the kitchen, but he turns away, towards the big sliding glass door to the balcony.

And Nino is there, slouching in an overlarge t-shirt and loose pants, a crisp silhouette against the grey light outside. He turns while Ohno watches him, a cup of coffee in his hands, still steaming. He smiles. 

“Oh-chan,” he says, and Ohno is already walking towards him.

They slide together, a comfortable fitting of hips and Ohno’s arms at Nino’s waist. Nino raises his coffee cup, tipping it towards Ohno a little so the other man can take a sip, and Nino drinks after him. For a while, they just stay—close, quiet, content. The steam from Nino’s coffee rises steadily between them and Ohno can feel a little damp patch forming on the underside of his chin.

“So, um,” Nino says eventually, almost a whisper, as if he’s afraid of disturbing this little piece of stillness they’ve created. He turns his mug idly in his hands before glancing up. “I’ve been thinking.”

Ohno blinks slowly. “Hmm?”

Nino watches him, considering, bites his lips, and then says in a very small voice. “Satoshi?”

Ohno’s heart trips over itself a little, because this is the first time Nino has called him that when there are no cameras rolling and it isn’t a joke. And that’s all that Nino’s question is, just _is this okay?_

Ohno nods and hums his agreement, leaning in a little farther to press their foreheads together.

“Kazunari?” he asks in return, but Nino wrinkles his nose, so Ohno tries: “Kazu?”

Nino lets out a pleased, breathy laugh, then holds his coffee away and out to the side so he can wrap his other arm tight around Ohno and pull him in for a kiss.

Their lips are still brushing when Nino asks his next question, and the answer is so obvious Ohno doesn’t even feel the need to respond before covering Nino’s mouth with his own again.

“Will you stay?”

_Have you ever wished for an endless night?  
Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight?  
Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself will it ever get better than tonight?  
Tonight_   


~*~*~*~


End file.
